


Like real people do

by Rayawastaken



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Byleth has a brief identity crisis, Claude is smitten, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I only played GD and like 2/3 of BL routes so i doubt its actually canon compliant, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Time Skip, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayawastaken/pseuds/Rayawastaken
Summary: I will not ask you where you came fromI will not ask you, neither should youHoney just put your sweet lips on my lipsWe should just kiss like real people do





	Like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the very first fic I've actually written down and posted. Took me a while but I'm kinda proud of it? Either way, I hope you enjoy c:
> 
> Is this OOC?  
*aubrey plaza voice* Maybe so.

_ bang bang bang _

Claude groaned, picking his head up from the desk. One out of the many papers which served as a pillow during the Leicester Alliance’s leader's impromptu nap rose as well, sticking to his face. Ah. he had been reviewing some letters concerning new trading routes. Not the most enthralling task, Claude had to admit, hence him falling asleep in the middle of it. 

_ bang bang bang _

Claude frowned, eyes drifting to the window. The face of a full moon glared back at him. It seemed that whoever was currently outside of his room didn’t quite understand the concept of proper visiting hours. He swatted at the paper still on his cheek and ran his fingers through his messy hair, trying to get it into some semblance of order before moving to open the door.

He was met with two pale eyes and a mess of mint hair. “...Teach?” One of her hands was still up, probably just about to knock again. “Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, but what are you doing up in the middle of the night?” Claude noticed that aside from some loose shirt and pants she wore a belt with Sword of the Creator strapped to it. A peculiar choice for a midnight stroll in the monastery.

Byleth’s hand fell back to her side. “...I couldn’t sleep.” 

She seemed… nervous, almost. Tense. It wasn’t a look Claude saw on her often. “And I could ask you the same thing,” she said, gesturing to him still in his full regalia. Right. He had forgotten to change out of these.

“Well, no matter. What can I help you with, my friend?” Claude leaned on the doorframe with a smile and a wink, hoping his usual cheerfulness would put her at ease. The longer he studied the woman the more worried he grew. Byleth’s hands were fisted in her white nightshirt and her posture reminded him of the one she assumed on the battlefield, like she was looking for the enemies that clearly weren’t there. This coupled with the weapon hanging from her hip made for a rather concerning sight.

She hesitated, eyes boring into him. Claude willed his smile to stay in place despite the intensity of her gaze, his mind racing for any reasons why Byleth would be in such a state. Whatever could make this adamant, headstrong woman so uncertain?

“Will you walk with me?” she asked finally, her expression softening.

Claude blinked. “Ah. Of course. Let me just change into something more comfortable.” She didn’t say anything to that, and considering her own lack of armor, Claude concluded that whatever Byleth had in mind, it didn’t have anything to do with fighting. Before he could close the door to his room however, she caught his wrist in her hand. Claude looked at their hands, and then at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“Take Failnaught with you. I will be waiting outside.”

Well. Perhaps he was wrong in his conclusion then.

  
  


***

With the weight of his regalia gone and Failnaught strapped securely on his back Claude left his room. He had also slipped a small dagger into one of his boots. Just to be safe.

True to her promise, Byleth was waiting just outside the dormitories. She looked lost in thought, eyes cast downwards, hands picking at the end of her nightshirt in nervousness. She seemed to snap out of it once he approached, gaze lifting up to scan him briefly. Claude didn’t miss the way her attention seemed to linger on the place behind his head where he knew a part of his bow was visible.

Claude sighed in the most theatrical way he could muster, making his way closer towards her. “You know, Teach, if you wanted to have a one-on-one with Failnaught, you could have just asked. No need to give a guy false hope.”

She huffed, arms leaving her shirt to cross on her chest. Claude couldn’t help but smile, seeing at least some part of her usual self again. “I have a… theory, of sorts. I need a Hero’s Relic to test it.”

“And I imagine you also need _me_ here to wield it.”

“No. I could have gone to any person at the monastery who has one.” Byleth took a breath, a little shakily “I _want_ you here, Claude. Because I trust you.”

Claude felt his heart skip a beat at that. Byleth was hardly a person who disclosed her feelings on a whim. She was honest, sometimes painfully so, and wouldn’t make such declarations if she didn’t mean them.

Knowing that Byleth trusted him, and with something that made her so visibly uncomfortable made warmth blossom in Claude’s chest.

“What did you wish to discuss, then? I’ll help however I can,” he said, changing the topic quickly because her voice softened when she was saying his name and the moonlight made her hair glow and _she said she trusted him_ and really, all those thoughts were rather foolish. '_Judith would have a field day if she saw me right now'_.

Byleth said nothing, reaching for his hand instead. Two sets of calloused fingers entwined and then she proceeded to lead him in the direction of the fishing pond. Claude followed obediently.

Once they reached the end of the dock Byleth let go of his hand and sat down, feet dangling off the edge. Claude followed suit, leaning back on his hands and looking over the still surface of the water. This at least felt familiar. The two of them used to spend a lot of time here back in their school days, Byleth with a fishing rod in hand and Claude either with a book or bending her ear about everything and anything. It was a much simpler time, he thought, watching her place Sword of the Creator in her lap. Her fingers traced the uneven, bone-like structure of the weapon for a bit, before putting it aside and turning to face him properly.

“Activate it?” she asked, gesturing to Failnaught still on his back. She had that familiar look of determination on her face, brows drawn, eyes narrowed. Claude reached for the relic, feeling it pulse to life when his hand made contact with the grip. He held it in front of him and looked to Byleth expectantly.

“Well?”

The weapon continued to emit a steady rhythm as she put her own hand on it and pushed down until it rested on Claude’s thighs. Then she scooted closer to him and put her other hand on his chest.

“Uhh… Teach?” Claude tried to hold still as her fingers splayed and started roaming on his torso. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his thin nightshirt. “What are you… doing, exactly?”

“I’m trying to find your heartbeat,” she said, deadpan, eyes watching his chest with such intensity one may think it held some divine revelation.

“Right. Naturally. Here, let me just-” Claude took her hand in his and placed it over where his heart thumped a little too fast beneath his ribcage. He prayed to whatever god might be listening that the darkness made it impossible to see the color rising to his cheeks.

Meanwhile Byleth’s entire body went still as she felt for his heartbeat. Only her eyes drifted from the hand on his chest to the one still resting on Failnaught’s grip. Claude simply breathed, trying to slow down his rapid pulse. Truly, this was embarrassing. He acted as though he was a teenager again.

Just when he was about to speak up, Byleth’s hand retreated. She sighed, looking disheartened. Claude felt his embarrassment give way to curiosity. What was the point of that, exactly?

“Didn’t find what you were looking for?

She shook her head. “They don’t match…” she said, barely above a whisper and not really answering Claude’s question.

She stayed quiet for a beat after that, face turned to the water, expression concealed by a curtain of mint hair. Then she pulled Sword of the Creator back in her lap and the relic alighted, glowing much brighter than Failnaught previously had. The sword pulsed in a steady rhythm, bathing both of them in orange light.

Byleth extended her hand in his direction, palm up. Claude grasped it and she took a hold of his fingers before guiding them to the side of her neck.

"Find my pulse." 

He shuddered. It sounded almost like an order. And when their eyes met there was a challenge in hers, like she knew that whatever he was about to be shown would put her in a bad light. Like she was _daring _him to look away from the ugly truth. 

But Claude loved a good mystery. And Byleth was practically a living incarnation of one, from her parents to the progenitor god that allegedly used to manifest as a voice in her head. He thought it was rather ironic that she once scolded him for listing _being bound by common sense_ as one of his dislikes while she unapologetically contradicted logic itself by wielding a Hero's Relic she had no business being able to use, not to mention actually _activate_.

So Claude found Byleth's pulse, beating steady, ignored the way his hand was positioned as though he was cradling her face, and let his other hand rest on Sword of the Creator, just like she had done with Failnaught.

A moment passed. Then another. Claude felt his brows draw in confusion. He saw Byleth's eyes narrow, felt her jaw go taut under his fingers and her pulse quicken ever so slightly. At that he hesitated. 

The beat of the weapon fastened as well. 

It couldn't be a coincidence. The more time passed the more certain he’s got. Claude racked his brain for possible, reasonable explanations. He understood now what was the point of Byleth's whole endeavor from just a few minutes ago.

"The sword's beating and your pulse," he said, trying to get his thoughts in order. "They match."

"Yes. And what does this mean, Claude?" Her voice was strained with anger, although he had a feeling that it wasn't directed at his person.

"Well, it…" he huffed, trailing off. He's gotten too little sleep for this.

Byleth, on the other hand, seemed fully awake. "Let's just think about it, shall we?" Claude flinched. Sarcasm didn't bode well. "I don't have a heart, but I have a pulse. Which means _something_ has to beat in my chest. Sword of the Creator doesn't have its crest stone, yet I am still able to use it at its full power. Which means _something _has to activate it." She moved away from him at this point her head bowed down to look at the weapon still in her lap, the pulsing getting faster now. She grasped the handle with such force her knuckles turned white. "Add to that what you just found out and the answer becomes clear."

"That would mean…" Claude felt his blood turn cold. "Jeralt wrote in his diary that he didn't witness the circumstances of your birth, nor of your mother's death. What he did know... it was all told to him later by-"

"-Rhea." She finished before Claude could, voice cold. "Father never trusted her. I don't blame him. She handed him a baby without a heartbeat - without _emotions_ \- and said its mother died in childbirth." She barked out a laugh, empty and humorless. "For all I know she was the one that caused her death! And for what? So that I could one day wield some stupid, glowing sword!?"

Byleth rose to her feet swiftly with Sword of the Creator in her hand and held it above her head, almost like if she was about to swing down. Or rather, Claude realized, _like_ _she was about to throw it into the fishing pond._

"Whoa there!" Claude scrambled to his feet in front of her, hoping that the action won't earn him a not-so-accidental stab wound. "I understand your anger and I think you are _very_ justified in its intensity-" he blurted the words out quickly, making sure that his body was blocking any potential flight paths between Byleth and the unperturbed water behind him "-but let's not do anything too rash, shall we? I don't reckon the fish will be too happy if you throw _a sword_ at them. Not to mention the poor fellow who’d have to search for it afterward.”

Byleth’s eyes widened slightly, as though only now realizing what she was about to do. She seemed to deflate at that, some of the anger leaving her features. Her hand lowered slowly until Sword of the Creator’s blade met the wooden dock. He let his own arms fall, resting them at her shoulders. Claude heard a thud against the boards as the hilt slipped from Byleth’s grip, but his eyes lingered on the woman in front of him. Her entire body was shaking now, but Claude couldn’t tell whether it was still with anger or some other emotion altogether. Her eyes were unfocused as she spoke, sounding more like she was talking to herself than him.

“Damn... I’m- You’re right. What am I doing...?” Byleth’s hands flew to her hair and she tugged at it, voice a mix of sadness and frustration. “It’s just- Whenever I look at it - at _any _of those blasted weapons - I just- it’s as though-” She took a deep breath and when she spoke next, it was through gritted teeth.

“It’s like when Jerald died, all over again.” 

Claude felt his heart clench. Even after her father’s death his professor didn’t allow for her sorrow to show too much. She would stay in her dorm room for days and when she did leave, it was with her expression schooled into her usual blankness and a smile at the ready whenever a conversation required it. But Claude knew better than to assume Byleth was suddenly, miraculously better, no matter how many cups of tea he was offered or the number of pleasantries they exchanged. In the end, it didn’t change that when he looked in her eyes, well, their professor never was an overly emotional person, but she looked positively lifeless then.

Claude never wanted to see her like that again. Despite that, this was hardly the same situation, and emotion_less_ Byleth at least was familiar. He had no idea how to approach _over_emotional Byleth nor has he ever even met her.

(He did once. After the battle at Gronder Field, where they both watched Dimitri snarl at any attempt to join forces or an offer to heal the wounded, or to heal _him_. Where what remained of a boy Claude used to know as his classmate finally collapsed, spears and arrows sticking from his back as he still tried to crawl his way to where Edelgard commanded her troops with steel voice.

Byleth came to his room later, stripped of her armor and looking unusually fragile and _tired_. Claude welcomed her into his arms wordlessly, the same bone-deep exhaustion in his limbs, and that night they lay in his bed holding onto each other, mourning a friend they were too late to save.)

Before Claude could come up with anything to say, she leaned her head against his shoulder and her hands fisted in his nightshirt.

“I do not care if people call me a monster because I lack a heart. It doesn’t matter if they think of me more like a weapon than a human being. As long as I can protect my family, it’s all the same to me.” She took a shaky breath. “But this _feeling_... it’s as though I’ve already failed. Like I’m mourning my loved ones. It’s desperately lonely.”

Claude put her arms around her, and Byleth leaned into him, and they simply stood like that for a while. 

“Y’know, Teach,” he muttered into her hair once her breathing steadied. “I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit here.”

Claude pushed her away gently so that he could look her in the eyes and felt his heart clench at the resignation he saw there. He pried Byleth’s fingers from his shirt tenderly, slowly and cupped both of her hands in his own before bringing them up to the pulse on his neck, just as she did mere moments ago.

“I’m perfectly fine, my friend.” Claude smiled, small but earnest. “I’m alive. I’m here. If we were to walk a short distance from here, no doubt we’d be able to hear Raphael’s snoring from his room. And I bet Lysithea’s somewhere in the dining room right now, stuffing her face with cake while everyone else is asleep. ” The corners of Byleth’s mouth lifted at that, just a little. “We’re all here at the monastery, safe and sound. And it’s because every battle we fight, _you_ ensure that safety.”

She lowered her head at that, bashful. “Flattery…”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” 

That earned him a scoff that was more fond than irritated. “Anyhow, you’re right. It’s simply hard to deal with… emotions sometimes. Especially when they might not even be mine.”

“Not yours?” Claude asked, not trying to hide the curiosity in his voice.

Byleth sank back the boards below them with a sigh, legs swinging from the edge of the dock. He mirrored her position.

“Do you recall Zanado?” she asked.

“You mean the Red Canyon?”

“Correct. Our first proper battle as a class.”

“Right. You were very… uh, efficient, so to speak.” Claude said, remembering the way their teacher cut down bandit after bandit, all deadly grace and no room for mercy.

Byleth smiled grimly. “Angry’s what I was. And I never felt anger before while fighting. Turns out it wasn’t even my own but Sothis’. Zanado used to be her home before Nemesis destroyed it.”

“So all this sudden, unexplained sorrow you’ve been feeling recently isn’t yours either, then. Any ideas why Sothis would feel so strongly about the Relics now? I mean, you’ve been using Sword of the Creator when the two of you were still separate, so what changed?

She shrugged. “Sothis’ memories were hazy. She had difficulty recalling anything from her own life. She’d often remembered something only after it had been told to us. We can’t talk to each other anymore, but she is a part of me all the same. Maybe… maybe finding out about the crest stone in my chest reminded her of something.”

Claude hummed. “Must have been a big ‘something’ if it made her feel worse than the destruction of her home.”

Byleth made a non-committal sound and they fell silent after that, eyes turned to the starry night sky above, all the previously present tension gone. Claude put his hands behind his back and laid back on the dock.

“You remind me of the moon.” 

“Oh?” He gave her a sidelong glance, not particularly eager to move from his current position. Byleth wasn’t looking at him, face still turned upwards, contemplative. “Is it my roguishly handsome face? The air of mystery that surrounds me?”

“I have felt directionless most of my life. I fought for a living because I was good at it. I taught because I was told to. When Rhea asked me to take over her as archbishop I agreed because there was nothing else for me to do once I left Garreg Mach. ” Byleth paused to look down at where he was lying and there was something akin to pride in her voice when she spoke next. 

“Today I fight because I want to, and I have a cause to believe in.” She moved closer to poke at Claude’s side affectionately. “_You _give me direction. Like a moon during the night. It is easier to know what I want when I have you to illuminate my path.”

“...If anything, I am glad to know I managed to give back at least a fraction of all that you have done to help me with reaching my ambition.” He responded, words turned soft by Byleth’s sentiment. “After all, the moon wouldn’t shine at all without the sun,” Claude mused. “and she never seems to ask for anything in exchange for all that light she gives off.”

Byleth’s mouth quirked upwards at the corners. She was leaning over him now, propped on an elbow with her hair tickling his face. “I don’t know about that. I think the sun would get pretty lonely without the moon to keep her company.” A hand cupped Claude’s cheek and he held his breath as the stars above him were replaced by two, pale eyes. “I think he’s exactly what she wants.”

The last words were whispered against his mouth before Byleth closed the distance between them. They were both still for what felt like an eternity, lips pressed together and the only sound Claude could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears. Then she moved, hesitant at first as though asking _is this okay_ _are you sure_ and Claude reached to the back of her head, fingers weaving through mint hair and tugging gently _yes yes yes_ and kissed her back, needy, impatient.

And they lay like that for a while, the tension of months of dancing around each other, of secretive smiles during meetings and soft reassurances at their worst hours dissolving with each kiss Byleth peppered onto Claude’s lips, neck, collarbone. Months of '_my friend'_ spoken with tenderness that suggested she was something much more.

Byleth's weight disappeared from Claude's chest suddenly. He opened his eyes to see her above him, walking back towards the dormitories.

"As romantic as it is to kiss under the fool moon with nothing but the fish smell to accompany us, I think it's about time we both head back to bed. It's rather late." She hummed, voice teasing and although Claude couldn't see her expression, he knew she was smiling.

He jumped to his feet and hurried after her, not bothering to hide the smile on his own face. 

"Now then, _professor_, is that an invitation?" Claude purred.

She stopped and turned back towards him at that. Byleth made a show of looking him over with a contemplative expression, hand raised to her chin in thought.

"I don't know." She reached up to the collar of Claude's shirt to tug him down. "Kiss me again and maybe you'll find out."

And that night, he did both.

("Also, if you call me ‘professor’ while we're in bed I'm going to kill you."

"Yes ma'am")

  
  


***

  
  


When Byleth awoke the next morning, it was to a mess of dark hair tickling her chin and light snoring coming from the person lying next to her. She felt a smile creep onto her face as she propped herself on an elbow and watched Claude’s sleeping face.

It was rare to see him like this; so content, so relaxed, for once not absorbed by yet another scheme. He wanted so much for his people, Almyran and Fódlan alike, even though neither never cared much for him. He was met with rejection and hatred, and where a lesser person would let it turn them bitter and vengeful, Claude decided he’s going to ensure no one ever feels the way he did ever again. 

And perhaps it indeed was nothing more than an unrealistic pipe dream, but then again, Byleth was rather good at bending the way reality worked and she fully intended on seeing this one through. She was a weapon, one that she trusted could be wielded by Claude.

Byleth watched as the first rays of sunshine turned brown skin into liquid gold, felt _something _squeeze in her chest as emerald green eyes slowly opened and regained clearance. '_Radiant'_ she thought simply. 

A smile, lazy and open, one that made wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

“Mornin’.” he murmured quietly, voice raspy with sleep.

And Byleth let herself smile back, just as earnest. Because it was just the two of them in here. Just a girl without a heartbeat and a boy without a land he could call home and they were both outsiders, in their own ways. She acknowledged she wasn’t quite human and Claude had heard people call him less than one enough times to make it hard not to believe them.

Byleth felt as though she was simply pretending to be a person sometimes. And maybe to some extent, it was the truth. But it seemed much less daunting of a thought as she felt warm lips on her own and a gentle touch on her skin and she felt real, _real_ at that moment.

“Good morning.”


End file.
